You
by Corcroy
Summary: Sometimes, you just want answers. Even when you know the answer won't change who you are and all the things you've done.


You…. You killed me. Everywhere I turned, I saw your face. I saw those icy blue eyes staring back at me, burning two holes straight through my soul. It wasn't right. I was at war. I was a soldier. I had responsibilities. I had orders. I had friends. I had the lives of my friends hanging in the balance and you took them from me. Why did you do it? Who are you? You wrote me all the time. You sent me photos of yourself so I'd always have you on my mind. You were the one thing that kept me from truly being at war. You spend so long surrounded by the blood, the terror, the horror, the gore, the lies, that you find you have to become these things just to stay alive. All I wanted was to see you. I loved you and I thought you loved me too. Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? Why didn't you love me back? I don't know how I even feel about it. I was ordered to clear a room but I had this very bad feeling. Like, I somehow KNEW that if I walked into that room, it would have been the end. I was right. It was the end. It just wasn't the end for me. The moment of truth and I hesitated, so my BEST FRIEND goes in first. I didn't even have time to stop him because all I could, see, think, hear, smell, and taste was YOU. I wanted to see YOU again. It was all about YOU. My best friend was shot twice in the chest and once in the head. It was funny in a way. When his body hit the floor at my feet, the look in his eyes was almost like he was saying "That's what fucking happens if you hesitate bro. The quick or the dead remember?" I don't remember much after that. I remember charging into the room balling my eyes out like a fucking child. I remember stabbing the son of a bitch who killed him with my knife over and over again. I remember watching the life leave his eyes and the look of fear on his face when he realized that it was the end of the road. Most of all, I remember how I couldn't handle it. I had never killed anyone before. My first kill… So close and intimate. I remember sitting there looking at the bodies. My best friend and the mother fucker who killed him were dead and it was my fault. I killed both of them. I killed them because of YOU.

Then I came home. I came home and I saw something I'd never forget. I saw how everyone had FORGOTTEN about us. They had moved on. They left the war behind them. They didn't want any more of it. Too many good men dead. I don't blame them. That's when I started drifting. I couldn't find a job. I couldn't fit in. I couldn't readjust to civilian life. I was born in war. I fought for three years against the enemy. I saw men break. I saw men succumb to the carnage. I saw it all and I wish I never had. Then it hit me. It hit me like a brick wall. I had broken. I died over there the day YOU made me kill my best friend and the man who shot him. That guy may have shot him but it was ME who killed him. All for YOU. I carried every photo and every letter on me all the while I was over there. It helped me cope with everything. Believing that you were home waiting. If I had known then what I know now then maybe, MAYBE, it would have been me who was killed and not my friend.

I remember seeing you for the first time after I came home. I remember you telling me about how you found someone else. Some hot shot doctor or surgeon or whatever he was named "Riku." I remember how heartbroken I was. Then I remembered asking you the only important question I think I've ever asked anyone. "Why did you do it? I couldn't go in because of you. I wanted to see you again. So I got scared. YOU killed my best friend. They are dead because of YOU. So please tell me why the fuck you did it!." That cold, cold stare almost broke me in two.

"People die. It wasn't my fault. Don't blame anyone, not even yourself Roxas."

I remember how enraged I was at that answer. How I screamed and started knocking things over. I remember you pulling me into a hug, trying to calm me down. I remember crying myself to the ground in your arms, begging for whatever god that has done this to me to put me down for good. Nothing happened though. In the end, I had lost my friend, I had lost the girl I loved, and I had lost myself. I died the moment I came home. Why me? Why wasn't I the lucky one who had gone through the door? Oh, that's right. YOU wouldn't let me.

I remember the very last thing I ever said to you.

"I should probably thank you. Because of you, I'm still breathing which is more than I can say for a lot of guys that I know, but the truth is, I hate your fucking guts for doing this to me. It should have been me who went through the door. It should have been me who took two to the chest and one to the head. I should have been killed. I wish I had been. You know, sometimes when I sleep at night, all I can see are the faces of the two men that you killed… The two men that I killed, staring at me. They don't look mad. They actually kind of look happy, like they are at peace, and all I can think about is how I wasn't lucky enough to be standing right there next to them…. I will NEVER be able to function in normal society again because of that one moment in time. I'm dead Namine, and all I can think about is how you killed me. So this is good bye. Maybe one day, someone will finally answer my prayer and put a bullet straight through my head. Were I so lucky."

I remember the last thing I ate this morning. It was a bowl of cereal. Kinda funny actually. I remember finding my Colt .45 and putting the last bullet I'll ever fire into the chamber. Staring at the wall of my shitty apartment, I felt like I was staring into the void. The only thing looking back at me, the two faces of the men I killed. This time, they don't look so happy. They still aren't mad, just… understanding. I can't stand being away from them. I can't stand how alone I am. I remember pressing the muzzle of my Colt up against my chin, and suddenly, I remember everything. I remember growing up in a small town called Twilight Town. I remember eating sea-salt ice-cream with all my childhood friends. I remember high school, homecoming, prom, You and all the great times we had. I remember everything and I remember how it's all gone. Tell my mom and dad I was killed in action. That is probably more accurate anyways. I remember pulling the trigger, and the weightless feeling that followed after. I remember how I could feel all my guilt and pain slip away. Then I see their faces. My best friend Axel, and the guy who killed him. He looked a lot like me. I hope he isn't angry for what I did. I hope we can be friends. Maybe this won't be so bad. I almost feel kind of happy. I hope Riku makes you happy Namine. Maybe I'll meet someone in Hell or wherever I'm going that will make me feel happy the way Riku makes you feel. Anything's possible now. My war is over. Win or loss, doesn't matter. I feel good. I'm ready to hang out with Axel and ask that man for his name. He does look a lot like me, identical in fact. Maybe death won't be so bad.


End file.
